Chapter 21 Ezra
Ezra
But of course, the moment doesn’t last. The shadows settle. Her smile fades.
And reality crashes in like it always does.
Iain crosses his arms and stares out of the grimy kitchen window, grief festering under his skin like a slow-moving disease.
It’s clear he’s lost someone who was tied to him by one of these threads.
Because he’s not just damaged. He’s broken.
And these threads? I’ve heard of them before. I thought it was horseshit. Just poetic nonsense, some fairytale to explain what we already know: that some people leave a mark you can’t erase.
This explains everything. The pull in my chest. The ache when Aurora’s gone. The way she feels like the only thing that matters, even when I want to peel the stars from the sky and let everything burn.
Whatever it is between us is unmaking me. The old me—the one who never needed, never stayed—is slipping away. I can feel it. I’m not the same.
And maybe … I don’t want to be.
Aurora’s gaze sharpens, then turns back to Iain.
“So, wait. My mother … she was a Daughter too?”
“Aye, love.”
“But she never had a hellhound. How can that be if they assign all Daughters one at birth?”
Aurora’s gaze never leaves the wrakh as her fingers idly trace the cracks in the old table.
“Ah, now there’s the question,” Iain says, an odd hint of pride in his voice. “Your mum would have known about our kairda … er, what the fuck do you humans call it? Ah … coven! She’s the one who had them put those spells on you and your hellhound.
“My guess? She had a wrakh do a thread-breaking ritual too, releasing her hellhound from her service. Most Daughters cut the thread to their hellhound in their teens. Never thought it was a good idea, but what the fuck do I know? She couldn’t do that to you and yours ‘cause it’s your thread to break. If you ever want to.”
Aurora draws in a breath. Holds it. Then lets it out slowly, the tremor in her exhale louder than any scream.
“First of all, fuck you. I’d only break my thread with Lou if she wants me to. And second: What, fate just assigned me a protector? A partner? Like I’m some goddamn puppet? That’s bullshit. What’s the point of all this power if I don’t even get to decide who I love?”
The hellfire burns through her dark green irises, bright enough to catch the overhead light.
Iain’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops.
For the briefest second, he glances at me, concern flickering behind the awe. But whatever he sees in Aurora keeps pulling him deeper, quieting his sharp tongue as if a spell already tangled its fingers through him, whispering his name where bone splits and grey matter listens.
“Christ, little blackbird. Aren’t you a lovely, violent sight?” Iain sighs, almost dreamily.
He’s falling under her spell, and she’s not even trying.
Shit, there’s the kettle corn smell again. Her magic is literally clawing its way out of her.
Maybe this is how her magic rises, something soft and sweet, even when the world around her burns.
It doesn’t lash. It doesn’t scream. It blooms.
But even pretty blooms can take down buildings when they push through concrete and rebar.
And I think that’s exactly what Aurora’s doing. She’s breaking through. Not gently or safely, but with wild abandon and fire where her fear used to be.
Fuck, she’s beautiful like this.
I gently trace my fingertips along Aurora’s arm, hoping the warmth of my touch will soothe her and shatter the spell.
Thankfully, it works, and the fire in her eyes slowly dims.
“Iain, please answer Aurora’s question if you can. I’m curious about this myself,” I say to the wrakh, while keeping my eyes on Aurora.
“Huh? What?” Iain mutters, shaking his head like his soul took a wrong turn and had to sprint back into his body.
“Oh, free will and all that fuckery. Look, little blackbird, I can only tell you what my kairda knew. What I’ve seen.
You do get choices. Plenty of ‘em. Even about your threads. Hate to break it to ya, Ez, but you weren’t the only option.
She could’ve picked some nice, boring human.
Plenty of ‘em had their shot,” Iain says as a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face.
The growl bubbling in the back of my throat earns a chuckle from the wrakh.
He’s gloating. Painting a picture of a quiet life she’ll never have. A mortal man. A garden. A child. And none of that includes me.
He wants me to feel like a mistake, like I’m the thing that ruined her chance at peace.
Fuck that.
She didn’t choose safety. She chose me.
And I will tear the spine from anyone who makes her question that.
Iain speaks again, dragging me back from the edge.
“But you found each other and sort of cosmically agreed that the thread between you two would be unbreakable. Or … something like that. It’s cosmic shite. We can’t know every fucking detail.”
Aurora hums next to me, obviously thinking about everything Iain just told us.
“That satisfy your little hellfire heart?” Iain huffs, glancing around. “Pretty sure I’ve got a book somewhere that might have information about the Daughters. The spell work on you looks familiar.”
Iain stumbles out of the kitchen, leaving us alone for the first time since early this morning.
Aurora tightly clasps her hands together and lays them in her lap. My hand covers hers while I move my thumb in gentle circles, hoping this small gesture helps her find some peace.
When she looks up at me, tears threaten to fall from her eyes, and it takes everything in me not to burn this shitty house down.
That bald motherfucker made her cry.
I lay my head on Aurora’s shoulder and nuzzle her bruised neck, careful not to make the pain worse.
“Little lupine, please talk to me. I know this is a lot, but I need to know you’re well.”
Sitting back, I gently grab her chin and turn her face toward me. Instead of the sadness or despair I expected, I’m greeted with her bright, beautiful smile.
“I was terrified my feelings weren’t mine.
That some cosmic asshole decided we should be together, and we had no choice or say in the matter.
But that’s not the case at all, if Iain’s right.
I had choices, and you had choices, but we found each other, here and now, and chose each other. That makes me … happy, I guess.”
Leaning forward again, I gently kiss up her neck, then nip along her jawline, just before softly grazing my lips against hers.
“I would choose you every time, Aurora. Every single time,” I whisper against her mouth.
She presses her lips to mine, a kiss so slow, so soft, and so perfect that my shadows still around us, desperate to feel what I’m feeling.
My cock throbs and my mind blanks. I want to sink into her and never come back.
“Fucking hell! You’d think I’d know better than to leave two perma-threads alone in a room together. I found your fucking book. Now stop sucking on the queen’s tongue!” Iain exclaims as he walks back into the room with a very worn, very dusty book in his hands.
He called her “queen” without hesitation … without mockery.
And coming from him? That says everything.
Iain hands the coffee-stained notebook to Aurora, then leans against the counter. He waves his hands in a slow circular motion, and a mug materializes in his palm—matte black, chipped along the rim, and emblazoned in rough white lettering: “Wrakh me, Daddy.”
He winks at me over the rim of that bloody mug, and I silently question every life choice that led me to trusting him with her safety.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Thank you, Iain. We will return this once we complete our research. Are you ready to begin the removals? We have a long day ahead of us.”
Iain spends the next thirty minutes removing the timeline reset spell from Aurora, restoring every memory she ever had of Louie.
“You two know she’s got some kind of glamour spell on her, too, yeah?” Iain asks as he cleans up the mess from his spell work.
“Ah, yes,” I say, turning to Aurora. “I thought we might keep that spell active. It hides your fiery, hellish energy imprint and replaces it with a very human one. It doesn’t work on everyone, though.
Iain and I felt there was something off about it, but lesser creatures won’t, which could keep you safe. However, I leave it to you, Aurora.”
“Iain, could you remove it later?” Aurora asks, while he mutters something about the goddamn price of sparrow feet these days like that’s the real crisis here.
“Aye, little blackbird, I could remove it. But your monster over there’s gonna have to pay me more. Keep in mind, though, once you get your powers, that spell won’t do dick,” Iain says, flashing me a manic, glassy-eyed grin.
Aurora sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Okay, let’s leave it for now. I’m glad I know it’s there. And if I ever want it gone, I’ll deal with it myself. But … thank you for letting it be my decision.”
“Of course, darling,” I purr, kissing the back of her hand.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and all the bleedin’ saints!” Iain roars, grabbing a filthy tea towel off the counter and chucking it straight at me in pure disgust before storming toward the door.
“Let’s go outside and deal with the hellhound,” the wrakh grumbles from the foyer, clearly not happy about working magic on a hell-beast.
When we step outside, Louie hops out of the car window and trots over to us. Iain’s eyes go wide as he takes in her size and protective presence.
Aurora, Queen of the Underborne, falls to her knees in front of Louie, ruffling the fur on her neck as she recounts the things we learned.
“Not scared of much, that one,” Iain mutters, watching in awe as the goddess baby-talks the hellhound. “Hurt the little blackbird, and I’ll kill ya. You know I could.”
I turn to Iain and nod in acknowledgement. I’d kill myself if I ever harmed her. He wouldn’t have to worry about that. But unfortunately, his concerns are valid.
“The Disciples do that to her neck?” Iain asks.
Fucking wrakhs and second sight.
“You know they did. And I would appreciate a heads-up the next time they’re in the area.
I’ve only recently learned the Disciples are still active.
I’ve spent too much time isolated from both the human and creature realms. It’s time I rekindled old alliances and reminded certain parties who I am.
Because whether they realize it or not, we all have a stake in keeping Aurora safe. ”
Iain grunts in response, then clears his throat.
“Alright, hell-beast, let’s get that spell outta ya so the lot of you can get the fuck off my property!”
It takes forty-five minutes to crack the spell. Iain likens it to opening a safe: right combination, right sequence—et voilà. Fully functional hellhound.
When Iain finally gets it right, there’s a moment where nothing happens. The four of us stare at each other awkwardly until Louie vanishes in a burst of flames. Thick smoke curls from the scorched earth, swallowing her whole.
Aurora’s hand tightens in mine.
My shadows surge, reaching for something. Anything. But there’s nothing to grasp. Nothing to hold onto.
Just fire and smoke.
Then silence.
Iain takes a step back, slow and wary. “Well … that’s not fuckin’ supposed to happen.”
After a few minutes, the flames die down. I expect a pissed off hellhound with singed fur to emerge, cursing Iain and threatening his life in delightfully violent ways, but there’s no movement within the ash-thick haze.
Something isn’t right.
As the smoke clears, it’s not a furry heap we find on the burnt ground, but a tiny naked woman. She has a massive tattoo of a Celtic dog on her back with intricate knotwork that winds its way down and around her legs and arms.
Aurora gasps, her fingers digging into my arm like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.
Not the magic.
Not the others.
Me.
She chose me.
Even terrified, she reaches for me.
A slow, terrible certainty settles deep in my chest.
I’m not letting her go.
Not now.
Not ever.
But first we need to figure out what to do with a naked human-shaped hellhound passed out on the wrakh’s lawn.